Who are you beneath your cores
dear poets.all?
Behind your eyes, and
The abyssmal joy of your voice.!
Who bore your hands painters
of my canvas in my
dark skies Moi I love her so!

Who are you in the gates
compass of your feet's troot
In such manly sunny grace
The world of roses bows
to last a season longer
in your courts Moi and
weeping willow, you Crow?
Tspoetry Traveler who are you?
Who are you when the night grabs treasures in your tantric hands
to exploddives full of putpose
claiming your ancient
queen of love.
Who are you behind the Scarlet rose that owns your poems all inked in gold, Moi who is your Z,😇
I thrive for poetry attempting to define true love and find you holder of Grammy birds in rose gardens
mastering grace and joy
arena of loverz expertise.

I find you intriguingly
Inquisitive over powers of women
Needing no man to thrive in life
a faint disregard to Ballance
value wisdom in
Ancient ones wanting more.
Who are you behind your faceal avatars
~~~~
Who are you dear.poets
Behind your nom de plume
In the ******* Mansion fields
of young damsels landing
to feed on your gummy inks,?.
~~~
Mr and Mrs Andrews
By: Karijinbba.
7-2021.

A mask so well crafted it fools the fool
Just as the ocean form covers the waves.
Hiding the Terrors with a beautiful white glaze ,
As though God spent so much time and effort
To create mask that fools God Himself in his holy domain.
He too wears, a mask of a fool only to keep humanity sane

Never once had I doubted 
And Never once had I stopped to think
That the kindness you displayed in my presence
Lives right under the Foamy ocean waves.
Within my reach to pull of your mask,
I held my own hand , played along with your deathly charade

The pain you had fed me, I swallowed it whole
Forcing it down my throat as I cried -
Choking on your lies and hypocrisy,
Smiling in a pool of my tears,
Yet I still laugh alongside your games

Sitting at the foot of your mercy
And yet you continued all mighty
Marching forward on your death parade
Sweetly singing me a ghostly serenade
To live in your lie, I grant my own embrace

To your nature I blind my own eyes
Your existence rising from my belief
Let me listen to your siren
As you are the foam coating the waves
And I stare into your mask again
A true jester you are, so unsightly

A pity clown dancing in the city
An applauding audience , well performed
And I say bless you fool, to all it is unknown
For you savor the mask worn only by yourself
And let the world dance in your palms
While I give you a sitting ovation
I laugh, my mind slipping on who I am
As by far I am a mere guest in your front row
Wanting to be part of your mascarade